Mercy
by angbanginangband
Summary: Mairon brings back some 'interesting things' as he attempts to teach Melkor a lesson in patience. PWP, was angbang but turned into a foursome. Implied Fëanor/Maedhros.


**PWP. Can also be found on library of Moria under the same penname. ****A warning: Canon is totally ignored in this. Please enjoy!**

* * *

„Ma-Mairon! Please!" Melkor begs, writhing in his bonds, tossing his head sideways. The hot breath of his lieutenant passes over his skin, arousing him more and more to no end. His arms tug relentlessly at the chains twisted around them, holding his hands together, pinned over his head. What was he even thinking when he agreed to this?! Melkor wasn't so sure if he could recall.

But oh, Melkor does remember, doesn't he?

_He remembers how Mairon strode into his room, wearing his full armor, angrily snapping at him. His boots had angrily clacked on the floor as he tapped his feet in impatience, waiting for Melkor to acknowledge him. When his servant coughed a few times in annoyance he had finally turned to look at him, asked him what he was angry about. What the matter was, Melkor did not know exactly anymore. It was most likely Melkor had broken something of important value to his lieutenant and clearly he didn't care about it. But the fury in the Maia's eyes was one he wouldn't forget. And so he offered to make it up to him, in a ‚different' way than one would expect, tilting his hips slightly as he walked up to Mairon, his voice taking a lower and more seductive tone, setting ablaze the fire in the eyes he loved so much. Mairon could not resist. _

_The Vala then was abashed by the sheer force with which Mairon tackled him, snarling furiously while doing so. His lieutenant had shown his strength by throwing him off his feet, toppling him on the floor and straddling him, panting afterwards, glaring down at his face with heated breath. _

_„Do not raise." _

_Melkor had gulped at those words, said with such accurate precision and he knew he would not disobey Mairon's command, far too eager to receive his reward for listening to it. And Mairon would only be gone for a short time. Melkor knew that. He could wait, for this once. _

_Mairon straightened himself back up, silently and retreated back, shutting the door behind him. Curious and aroused now, the Vala waited for him to return. He knew he would. They had done this many nights before and Melkor cherished each and every single time he had made his Maia moan for him, or the times where he let Mairon play with him, driving him insane with the most subtle movements. Now he hoped Mairon could bring back something new and exciting to the bedroom. _

_Melkor was not left disappointed. When Mairon opened the door, now stripped of the metal plates of his armor, he carried something with him. A metallic clanking sound from his arms it made. Melkor recognized it immediately. It was something strong, something glimmering and shining, something terrible… Something specially forged for him. _

_Melkor would always recognize the chain Mandos had bound him with after the fall of Utumno. His breath stuck in his throat, his eyes widening at the sight Mairon now portrayed before him, standing with Angainor in his hands. _

_„Where did you get that?" _

_Mairon smirks at him from above, standing closer to Melkor now. _

_„I have my secrets too, my lord, but I may or may not happen to still have my old friends from the smithy." _

_Saying no more after that, he knelt down beside Melkor, laying down Angainor, opening the simple black tunic Melkor wore that day, sliding his hands down to his abdomen, stroking over the soft skin he found. All this time Melkor held himself still, clenching his blackened fists tightly, struggling not to arch up into the touch. _

_„Come now, master, I did not come back to you for only to see you restraining yourself. That part will be left to me." Mairon playfully spun his words, bringing his fingers down to Melkor's hips as he did so, who responded with a loud moan._

_The hands part his tunic further and Melkor's cock is hard already, having been hidden underneath the heavy black cloth. With one swift move Mairon removed the rest of it, baring Melkor's skin to the cold air that always seems to run through Angband. The crown with the Silmarils he left, telling Melkor it would make his beautiful face stand out. _

_„Come now, to the bed." Mairon had smirked. The black haired Ainu had obeyed the words without hindrance, scrambling to his feet and throwing himself on the dark sheets, showing his own body off to the other, his cock already heavy and hard between his legs. Mairon had been standing at the foot of his bed for a long time then and picked up Angainor. _

_„Your hands." _

_Melkor had lifted them up, exposing his wrists to the Maia, who took hold of them firmly, not caring for the burned patches of skin. He had pinned them above Melkor's head, near the headboard, yanking them upwards and twisting the chain around it, afterwards letting it wrap impossibly tight around his wrists with a single ancient spell. Exposed, Melkor had nervously shivered as his lieutenant was now clearly in charge. _

_He watched in lust and arousal how Mairon had then stripped himself, first taking of his boots, then his upper garments and finally his pants. Body lean and toned with muscled, Mairon bend over to lay down the last pieces of sight of Mairon's bared shape was always a marvel to behold and Melkor had felt himself grow harder at the thought of their bodies laying entwined, moving in unison. _

_The Maia had then made his way over to Melkor, swaying his hips seductively and blowing kisses at him, tutting as he came close to the dark Vala. He had looked at the Vala with a slight sneer, as if he knew what Melkor was about to endure. _

_„Tssk, tssk. So impatient." _

_Mairon had leaned forward, close to Melkor's face, his flame-like hair falling over parts of his shoulders and kissed him on his cheekbone. _

_„ I think it's time for a lesson, isn't it?" _

_Nodding in agreement, Melkor had squirmed, his body wanting the pleasure of Mairon touching him, raking his hands over his entire body, leaving wet kisses and red marks across it. _

_„Please Mairon…" _

_He had groaned. _

_„Touch me and stop teasing your master." _

_„But you are not the master here, are you?" _

_Mairon had replied, leaning back, stroking his chin with his hand, contemplating what he should do next with Melkor. Scanning up and down the heaving chest of his master, he decided he had a plan, and he smirked as he said the next words, knowing well what effect it would have on the Vala. _

_„In fact, I think it is time someone puts you in your place, Melkor. Perhaps the Valar have not punished you enough." _

_Hearing that, Melkor had flushed, stuttering out incomprehensible syllables of protest, but Mairon shushed him, climbing on the bed, straddling him now at his hips. Melkor felt his cock touch Mairon's backside and he thrust upwards, seeking friction and pleasure, forgetting all what Mairon had told him before. _

_Until Mairon had reached beside him, leaning over to take something from underneath the bed. Melkor's pupils dilated in excitement as he noticed what Mairon had picked up. A whip. Black and made from leather, the material preventing the tearing of skin when one was hit with it. Melkor breathed in heavily. _

_Mairon got up again, flicking the black cord a couple of times against the air. A loud snap followed. Melkor smiled slightly at that, approving of the skill Mairon had acquired with the weapon over the years. He is yanked back to other emotions quickly though, as Mairon lashed it out over his stomach, far to rapidly for Melkor to follow with his eyes. _

_He cried out at the welt of pain that now blossoms up in his lower abdomen, yanking at the chain encircling his wrists now, letting out another yell as he is hit again. The feeling is pleasant, stinging, but like a fire it warms him and crawls through his flesh. It burns him, flowering inside him. He lets out a low moaning as he feels Mairon drag the whip back over his chest, the cord stroking him in sensitive places. The Vala arches up, trying to get it to slide down over his inner thighs, hoping to feel it brush against his cock, but before anything can happen a hand presses him back down, firmly clawing its' nails into his skin. He cries out at the touch, wanting it to move to other places on his body, not holding him down. Above him, his beloved Maia smiles smugly down at him. _

_„Please!" _

_Melkor bucked up, or at least, he tried to. Mairon held him firmly down, having cast aside his whip and stroking over his chest with tempting movements, agonizingly slow. As he reached a nipple, he playfully pinched it, rubbing it between his fingers until it grew hard under his ministrations. Melkor gasped at the feeling, whining as Mairon moved to do the same to the other one. He cried out, moving his hips upwards, tossing his head back in frustration and pleasure at the same time, his desire not being fulfilled by Mairon's teasing hands. Softly whimpering, the Vala lays his head back. _

_Hearing the soft pleading noises come from Melkor's mouth, the Maia laughed a little and bends forward to whisper in his ear. _

_„Do you want a gag? Do you want something to keep those desperate sounds of yours down? I could imagine you would like to have that very much now…" _

_And as much as the idea appealed to Melkor, he shook his head at it. He wanted Mairon to know he enjoyed it. And for that he needed his voice. He would scream for his Maia, moan loudly as he would be touched and plead for mercy. Mercy he certainly wouldn't receive all too easily. And so he starts to beg, beg for more of the sweet touch which only Mairon could give him. _

And that is where he is now. brought down low by his own servant, to a writhing mess on the dark sheets, hands bound tightly in a chain forged long ago, specially for him. Secretly the Vala hopes Mairon will keep it close, always near to him, to use it on him as he pleases and he twists.

„Touch me Mairon, touch my cock! Please!"

Mairon grins, almost evilly and Melkor wishes he didn't ask him to touch him, for he knew that look could only predict evil and cruelty from his servant.

„If it is touch you wish then…"

The flame-haired Maia calmly mentions before diving down on Melkor, his hot mouth engulfing the hard shaft completely.

Crying out in surprise at the sudden pleasure, Melkor bucks up frantically, arching upwards, scrunching his eyes shut and tugging relentlessly at Angainor.

Mairon instead pushes him back down. He moans around Melkors' cock, driving the Vala insane with his twisted tongue, darting it out over it and lapping at the hot shaft in his mouth.

As he runs short of breath he comes back up, looking at Melkor, who has head thrown back in delight, neck exposed and his dark hair spread out like a halo underneath him. Pleased with the sight, he runs a finger from under Melkor's balls to the tip of his cock, smirking as the Vala moans with wanton. He stays at the head, circling it with a long fingernail.

„You like that?"

Mairon tilts his head slightly, waiting for Melkor to regain his senses and respond.

„Mo-More…"

The unintelligible reply comes out, the dark Ainu whimpering as he feels his legs spread wider, begging for more contact. Mairon smirks at that and reaches under the bed again. He and Melkor kept a lot of ‚playthings' there, for when they had the night to pleasure each other. This time however, he would use it to torment him.

Melkor looks at him with a slight glaze over his eyes, and fixes his eyes on the metal cock he holds in his hands. Licking his lips, the Vala pulls his knees upwards, until they nearly touch his shoulders.

„Put in me."

He says, his voice slightly husky and dry.

„Not before this."

Mairon leans over him, holding himself up with his arm and using the other one to hold the iron-forged cock in front of Melkor's lips, who in response leans forward and laps at it, taking it in his mouth as good as possible. He lets his saliva coat the metal, warming it up with his own breath, sliding his tongue over it, feeling the smoothness of the object.

Mairon pulls it back, all out of a sudden and Melkor admits to himself he misses it already. But his longing doesn't last long, as he feels Mairon press the head of the cock against his entrance. He moves himself against it, rocking his hips forward as far as possible it is with his hands still pulled over him, holding him fast.

„Mairon… Please."

Mairon pushes it in in one long, lasting and slow thrust, letting him adjust himself to too pressure on his insides. He clenches around the metal first, but soon he sighs in relief and relaxes somewhat more.

„I wonder…"

He starts, musing about how Mairon thinks about the matter.

„What Aulë would say if he knew for what purposes you used your forge now."

Melkor receives a slap to one of his inner thighs for the comment and he lets out a small yelp of shock.

„Mairon!"

„Then don't say such profanities! You know exactly what he would say!"

Melkor smiles at the Maia then, for he is reminded why he had allowed Mairon by his side. His dominant character when they had words with each other, the way he could always bring a smile to Melkors' face, even in the worst of times.

Finally having adjusted then, he rolls his hips, pressuring Mairon into moving the cock in and out of him. As he feels the heavy object slide against his rim he pants, straining his arms against Angainor. At some point the steel inside him presses against his prostrate and Melkor's eyes roll back with pleasure hazed over them. He moves himself against it, shifting on the drapery of his bed.

Mairon in return grabs hold of his cock with his free hand, and starts to stroke it firmly, making the Vala sob for breath a little more, rubbing his thumb over the slit of it.

The metal pounds against his prostrate and Melkor cries out, feeling his cock fill itself up with his release and he moves himself, undulating his hips into the caresses. Frantically he twists his head, letting his black hair fall over his face.

„Mairon, Mairon, Mairon…"

The name passes his lips as if he was chanting a spell, his climax nearing rapidly. but in the final moment, right before he can come, Mairon stops all his movements and touches, and to Melkor's horror pulls away from him, leaving him aching and wanting.

„No!"

Melkor sobs, his entrance twitching around the metal cock, trying to take it back to that spot he loves so much, his cock weeping with pre-come, but not getting its much-needed attention.

„Mairon please!"

„Shush, Melkor. Is this how you would treat me, after all the love I have given to you?"

Leaning back from him, the Maia pulls out two small lengths of rope and takes hold of one of his ankles. Twisting the rope around it, he fastens it to the foot of the bed, leg spread out to one side. Mairon soon moves to do the same with his other one. Softly stroking the insides of his thighs now, Mairon leaves Melkor trembling form bound like that, stretched out and aching for touch.

„N-No…"

Melkor begs, but the Maia takes back a step, smirking. The Vala's eyes shoot up, dark with lust and desire. This was not what he wanted.

Making a clacking sound with his tongue, Mairon turns back his attention to Melkor.

„I told you you needed a lesson. And since you couldn't just _simply_ wait with attacking those blasted Noldor, those cursed elves, losing some of my most useful orcs in the process, I think you could use one in patience."

Mairon's voice was calm as ever, but a certain anger and arousal clung to it. But to Melkor's further dread, he had started to dress himself, slipping on his robes and his boots.

„You will learn to wait, Melkor, and when I return you will make it up to me."

Before the words had settled down for good in Melkor's mind, the Maia had already turned on his heels, left the room and locked the door, leaving his Master completely naked, filled and exposed on the bed, still waiting for completion.

„Mairon! Come back! Don't leave me here…"

Melkor's cries turn into softer wails as he rattles the chain binding his hands, pulling at it harshly, but even with all his Valarin strength he cannot budge it a single inch. Sobbing, he gives up. Instead, he tries to focus on other things than his leaking shaft, like the warm light emitting from the torches lighting up his room, or the dark cloth, adorning the stone wall across him. It distracted him only a small moment, but somehow it did not help, and soon He who arises in might was writhing on his sheets, trying to gain friction, anywhere, on his body.

In dread, Melkor realizes he could not satisfy himself enough to gain his release and with a cry of frustration he slumps. He would have to wait, but waiting was not something Melkor was good at, being far too impatient, having proved that on multiple occasions.

And so it was that when the door finally moved, Melkor was already apologizing for what he had done, begging Mairon to touch him and free him from the dull ache in his cock.

„W-will you not release me? I think I have learned my lesson!"

He manages to mutter out, hearing a heavy inhale across the chamber pass his ears.

As he hears a fast pacing approach, he starts to moan and twists his head up to find a face familiar gazing at him. Which doesn't belong to Mairon. Not at all. His breath catches, stuck in his throat.

„F-Fëanor?"

The elf didn't respond directly, his flustered face gazing at Melkor's body, still fettered hand and feet.

„Mairon wasn't lying in his offer…"

Is the horribly slow response and Melkor can tell the elf is nearly as surprised to see him as he himself is. And in that moment Melkor realizes how horribly humiliating his current position before Fëanor is and he tugs at his bindings, hoping to pull his legs at least a little closer, trying to hide his modesty in a failing attempt.

„Oh no no no…"

He hears Fëanor say above him, and suddenly a soft touch on his cock has him moaning again. In surprise he yells and arches his back, and he would be flying of the bed if it were not for the bonds holding him down.

The dark haired Noldo leans forward into his vision, black hair framing his slender face, grinning at Melkor and touches his cheek softly with his hand, stroking over it.

„This has been promised to me, you know… The mightiest of the Ainur, willing to do _anything_ for me, only in exchange for one week of peace… How could I resist? Your lieutenant surely knows how to play his words."

„Wh-what?"

Clearly confused, the dark Ainu strains to look at Fëanor properly, arching upwards.

Fëanor bend over to kiss Melkor softly, placing his lips mockingly on his dark forehead.

„Did you not know? Mairon told me I could find you here, have you at my mercy for one week of peace." The Noldo's grey eyes move up to the crown, still on Melkor's head and for a moment the Ainu stiffens completely, afraid Fëanor would take it away from him.

The elf chuckles, seeing his frightened expression and strokes his cheek again.

„Oh, I would love to grab it and run away, but where's the fun in that? I can have something far more _valuable _than that."

The last words end in a low growl. Melkor lets go free the breath he didn't know he was holding, and allows his muscles to relax. At least Mairon had not betrayed his well-placed trust. A figure in the doorway moves and Melkor can hear the familiar footsteps nearing before Fëanor does and a hand clasps down on the Noldo's shoulder, making him go rigid for a moment.

„Already having all the fun without me?"

Mairon sternly looks at Fëanor, and clacks his tongue. Melkor notices his lieutenant has dressed himself again, only in a long robe, to his disappointment.

„You can't just run off like that. There are more who desire to share my master and here in Angband we either go together, or we don't. Nelyafinwë, why don't you come a step closer?"

At the unfamiliar name Melkor turns his head to the side, seeing an elf standing a few feet away from him, blushing heavily. The unnatural height is the first thing he notices about the elf, but as he looks for more he finds out he has an uncommon hair color as well. It is a deep red, slightly matted in the soft light emitting from the torches. Several freckles adorn the facial features of the elf as well and Melkor gulps. The elf steps closer, revealing himself to Melkor as the light of Silmarils shines on his lithe body. Melkor tries to take in the sight as good as possible.

„Where did you find him?"

Mairon shakes his head, seating himself on the bed, rubbing Melkor's outstretched leg. Maedhros instead replies.

„I am the eldest of Fëanor's house, Maedhros is my name, but for you it's Maitimo. Are you Melkor, whom they call Morgoth?"

„I… Am?"

„Then He who arises in Might is not as mighty as they claim, he is laying before me, splayed open and humiliated."

The Noldo grins down on him, and melkor feels himself blush at the words. He didn't expect that, but the boldness of the elf pleasantly surprizes him and he realizes Maitimo takes a lot after his father. Who was still leaning extremely close to him, hand still on his face.

Gazing him up and down, Melkor licks his lips.

„Will you not strip yourself before me? Or do you plan to sit there all night?"

Fëanor laughs, a deep sound emitting from his throat. He quickly follows Melkor's words, showing of his body for the Vala as he removes the pieces of his armor one by one, his skin glowing in the light of the jewels he made himself. As he discards the last piece he wears, he rolls his hips and strokes over himself. Melkor leans slightly forward, pleased by the elfs' appearance.

Fëanor casts his gaze at Maedhros, stretching his arm out and beckoning him with a movement of his fingers.

„Will you not join?"

Maedhros visibly flushes, stuttering a bit.

„I-I'd rather watch…"

Melkor grins, turning to Mairon now, who had quickly shed the simple cloth he wore. A sudden pressure on his chest makes him return his attention back to Fëanor, who had climbed on top of him, straddling him. Melkor needs no words to know what he has to do. Fëanor's cock dangling in front of him is enough and he lets his tongue lap at it as he leans closer. He lets his tongue encircle it, hearing Fëanor groan loudly as he does so.

Suddenly Fëanor thrusts himself fully into his mouth and Melkor nearly chokes, struggling to keep breathing through his nose as he sucks on the flesh in his mouth. How tempting it was to bite down for such rashness, but instead he only scrapes it with his teeth, teasingly glaring at Fëanor. A slap against his inner thigh makes him stop and he knows it is Maitimo who hit him. He groans, sending the vibrations of his voice through Fëanor's cock, who responds by bucking his hips forward.

„You will not treat the king of the Noldo like that. Get moving."

Melkor hears the elf say. He nods slightly in response, moaning at the words. Fëanor takes hold of his hair, tugging on it, pulling him more down onto his cock, gasping and panting raggedly. As it appeared to Melkor, Fëanor was a silent partner to have in his bedroom and his son would do the dirty talking.

Mairon watches from behind, but he steps forward and gestures with his arm to side of the bed.

„Why don't you have a closer view, Maitimo?"

The red haired elf follows his words and settles himself down at Melkor's side, letting his fingers ghost over the Vala's chest. As he flicks over a nipple he hears clanking of chains and watches how Melkor tugs at Angainor binding his hands in frustration. Letting his gaze fall down on Melkor's face, he starts to speak in a low voice, having an undertone of sarcasm resounding in it.

„That crown doesn't really fit you, does it? It would suit you better as a collar, being the shameless Vala you are. Should the opportunity ever arise…"

Melkor moans, hollowing his cheeks around Fëanor and closes his eyes in shame. They fly open at the sensation of a finger probing at his arse, tapping against the metal cock still inside him. Keening, he tries to arch into the touch, but with all his bonds and an elf on top of him he doesn't get far. From behind Fëanor he can hear Mairon mutter.

„You really are unbelievable. I thought you had learned to be slightly more patient with me…"

Since Fëanor is busy with his mouth, he can't shake his head, but Melkor does definitely wail as he feels Mairon slowly pull the cock out and he strains the muscles in his legs, clenching up, anything to keep it inside him! Failing, he sobs, his hole twitching and clenching around nothing now.

Mairon laughs, Melkor can hear it, and he whines at such cruelty. Surely Mairon was not so mean?

Fëanor pulls out of his mouth for a second, wiping the saliva of his cheeks with a smirk.

„Is there something you want to say, Melkor?"

Maitimo's voice cuts like a knife, skinning him down to his very core.

„Please take me! Mairon I beg of you!"

He cries out, desperately now his focus on Fëanor is gone. A warm hand touches his ankle, and suddenly he can pull his leg back, the rope around it cut. Sighing in relief, he tries pulling back the other too, splaying them wide. Fëanor is still on him, but it doesn't hindrance his movements in the least.

„Will you not take me, your master? Mairon, please, I nee-''

Melkor is roughly cut off as a hand takes hold of his jaw, digging into his cheek firmly and wrenches his gaze upwards. Fëanor is looking at him, with a certain disdain in his expression. Melkor understands and opens his mouth pliantly, letting Fëanor thrust back into him, filling his mouth up.

He whines around the shaft in his mouth as he feels a hot pressure against his entrance, gasping as it enters him in one deep thrust, and he yanks at Angainor in distress, wanting to pull himself down on it more.

As Melkor is taken from to sides he feels a hand move down his abdomen, taking hold of his cock. Out of the corner of his eye he spots Maitimo, his arm disappearing behind Fëanor. He lets out a content hum at that.

„Pleased now, blackheart?"

From a distance he can hear Mairon hiss, his voice agitated and aroused.

„Of course he is! Now take your hand away from that spot, I want to see him beg."

At that Melkor jostles his leg desperately, kicking at Mairon's backside before Maedhros can even pull away.

„Ow! Fine then. Maitimo, keep going."

Melkor moans, hearing Fëanor groan above him in response, the rhythm of which he was pushing his cock in and out of Melkor faltering now, becoming more irregular and faster, until he yells and suddenly a hot liquid; like fire, spills down his throat, scorching his throat. Swallowing, Melkor tries not to choke on it like he did before with his cock.

The elf on top of him pulls out, panting raggedly and moans as he lays himself down on Melkor, keepings his legs straddled over him. their chests touch and Melkor feels lips nibbling softly at his ear, licking at them and he groans at the sensitive touches, writhing weakly.

„M-mercy!"

Mairon keeps pounding into him and the Vala whines as he realizes his Maia too is close to release. Heat erupts inside of him, heat blossoming and touching the spot he so craves to be ravished. Mairon stays inside of him, sighing and panting hard. He rides out his orgasm slowly, rolling his hips and Melkor splays his legs as wide as he can, his focus now solely aimed on Maitimo's hand on his cock, the only one who can bring his release now. But as Mairon moves himself particularly deep, he feels his cock brush against that spot again, and oh! How Melkor had underestimated the climax of the touch!

He comes with a loud cry, tossing his head sideways, yanking at his bonds furiously, his body spasming and twitching under the onslaught of pleasure. Nearly he sobs. Melkor's emotions take the better of him, and for a moment, the Vala cries out, fear overtaking him as he thinks such heavy pleasure could destroy him, rip apart his body with all force, but after only a moment he regains his control and he breathes hard, chest heaving up and down quickly.

On him he feels the weight of Fëanor shift, moving away from him, as is Maitimo's hand, having coaxed the last bit of seed from his cock. Pulling weakly on Angainor he looks downwards. Mairon is still in him.

The Maia smiles at him, hair tousled in front of his face.

„W-was it good?"

He hears him ask, voice quivering and Melkor nods. Mairon pulls slowly out of him afterwards, whispering and he feels the chain slip of his hands, his arms falling limp after having been restrained for so long. He feels Maitimo take one of them, watches as the Noldo rubs his wrists and forearms softly. Fëanor takes after his son, taking the other one. Melkor sighs in relief, letting the elves stroke his arms back to awareness.

„It was the best…"

He sighs, sinking back. Mairon looks at him with an amused stare.

„No, I meant, was good? Did you learn your lesson?"

Melkor startles, moving away from Mairon.

„Dear Eru, no more! You know I won't be able to handle that!"

At that the Maia smiles warmly, getting on the bed and leaning in to kiss his master.

„I know, and I think these two-„

He gestures to Fëanor and Maedhros calmly.

„-do so too."

At that Melkor lets himself sink back into the sheets, taking his arms out of the elves' hands. He reassures Maitimo it is fine a couple of times, the he doesn't need the gentle treatment of them anymore. Welcoming, he splays out himself, inviting the others to lay beside him.

Mairon joins first, climbing beside him in the bed, taking some dark red covers along with him, clinging warmly to Melkors' body, heating him up with his own. Afterwards Fëanor and Maedhros follow quickly, laying at their sides, Fëanor at Melkors' back. The Vala sighs deeply, feeling himself falling asleep quickly, playing with a strand of Mairons' hair, the Maia smiling slightly as he closes his eyes.

Behind him Fëanor starts to even his breathing out, and he feels the elf relax against his back. His son on the other hand is moving every few minutes, shifting himself in a different position, until Melkor mumbles something, making the elf fall asleep in seconds. He himself is starting to close his eyes too and the Ainu sleeps, with his enemies. For a week he will allow it.


End file.
